The Duffle Coat and my father
My father is renowned for his stories; fond stories of mine and my brother’s childhood, exaggerated stories about his teenage years, proud stories of his father during the war and so on; he is basically one big story book. Although, we usually screw our faces up when my father tells another one of his stories (usually because we have already heard it before), one story my father told the other day really stuck in my mind and I thought it necessary to share it with you!
The story began with my dad talking about how much he admired his father’s Duffle coat that he wore during the First World War. To be fair, before the war all coats were for function, and as much as the duffle coat was also for function, it was the first coat to be introduced to the troops that was less formal and more useful for all weather conditions. Anyhow, my father continued to speak about how much he wanted his very own duffle coat, begged his parents for one, yet never got one.
Not until he was in his teens that was. But he wasn’t just brought any old duffle coat, he was handed his fathers, my father’s duffle coat. The coat which came with many a tale of pride and survival, the coat which, to this day, my father treasures so much that it has not been worn out of the house.
You see, the duffle coat today is seen as a classically traditional fashion accessory, however, to my father, the duffle coat means much, much more. It stands for bravery, it stands for love and it also comes with many a tale and many a fond memory. My father often recalls the ore he felt when my grandfather returned home from duty in his duffle coat. It was a man’s coat, a classic coat and of course it was my granddads coat!